ON THE BUBBLE WITH LAURA LIPPMAN

Were I a young gal dreaming of being a writer, I'd have to say I'd want to be like Laura Lippman when I grew up.  Since that possibility no longer exists (!) - suffice it to say that Laura would still be the model to emulate.  Her great talent, beauty, brains, her warmth, crackling wit, generosity and welcome smile - all wrapped up in one long-legged supernova is just too damn much for one woman to have - but this lady has it all.  And then some. 

And then there are the books.  Oh, boy.  Fourteen books and a combination of damn near every nomination and award that's out there.  Laura has won the Edgar, Shamus, Agatha, Anthony, and the Barry - and nominated for Best P.I. from Romantic Times.  And there is little doubt her latest - NO GOOD DEEDS - due out this July - will most likely bring more nominations and awards.

I could go on and on - about this terrific lady - but all of you out there already know all this, so let's get on to some fun with Laura Lippman.

EE:  Okay, Laura - I'm going to start off the bat with one of the hottest rumors running around Mysteryville.  In fact, it's so hot - cell phones are sparking.  Can it REALLY be true you're not taking Jude Law's calls anymore???  And all because his so-called excessive craving for Greek food at midnight was the last straw?

LL:  More his excessive cravings for nannies.

Huh? That's it?  Nannies?  But...but...I heard he swore on bended knee that he was cured.  Well, okay.  But hey-that does leave him open ladies and I've got his private number. Email me -but be warned-the highest bidder, okay?

EE:  Okay, after that bombshell, we'll go easy on you. Who are the seven people you'd invite to dinner?  And why?

LL:  I'd like to invite the seven people who are the angriest/most disappointed in me, so I could say 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, would you like some mashed potatoes?

Since I can't imagine anyone angry or disappointed in you, I'll have to assume they would be whoever you beat out for an award.  Unless, they would be Jude Law's former girlfriends.

EE:  Because I don't want you to think I'm angry/disappointed in you for dumping Law, here's another easy one:  Which Rock & Roll star would you trade places with?

LL:  Chrissie Hynde

Excellent choice, but somehow I kinda thought you might say Diana Krall.  Silly me, huh?  Maybe it's just that you two resemble each other?  No?  You don't think so? 

EE:  So, Laura - what's your Walter Mitty dream?  Come on, don't be shy.  We all have one. Time to share.  Just keep it clean, okay?

LL:  I would love to be a cabaret or jazz singer, preferably performing "If They Ask Me, I Could Write A Book"  Or dance with Mark Morri's troupe.

See??? I told you Diana Krall!!  Hahahaha!  I knew it all the time!  You're such a little wench!  Uh, I like the song choice too.  It's has legs.

EE:  Now we're getting somewhere.  Here's the next toughy - Who would be on your ideal convention panel?

LL:  I'd reunite the Toronto Five - Mark Billingham, Ian Rankin, Karin Slaughter, me and our moderator, Peter Gutteridge - and add John Connolly, who was supposed to be there.

The Toronto Five.  Very sinister sounding - ominous even.  So, who are these people?  Do they write those 'dark and stormy night kind of books'?  Should I look them up on the web?

EE:  While I look that group up, think about which best selling book you wish you'd written.  Besides yours, naturally.

LL:  Jane Eyre

Oh, I remember that one.  And I remember how much I hated her cousins.  Spunky gal, that Jane.  Kinda reminds me of you.

EE:  Here's an easy one:  Who would you love to do a book tour with?

LL:  My own bed.  I get terribly homesick.

Aw, come on, Laura!  Names!  I wanted names!  Now I can't tease your choices.

EE:  Word is you're a gourmet cook.  So tell us what you would serve to seven guests, and who would they be?

LL:  So NOT a gourmet cook.  But a game one.  And when I have people over, I like to serve a Southern picnic - cold fried chicken, deviled eggs, redskin potato salad, and Coca-cola Fudge Cake.  I also like to make my own potato chips.

Southern picnic, huh?  I'm free most weekends.  I have a great mayonaise cake I make-I could bring it.  But, uh-who else is coming?  Please note dear readers of On The Bubble - La Lippman skirted the guest list.  But that's okay.  With a circle as wide as hers - she no doubt feared she might leave a favorite friend out.  We'll give her a pass on this one.

EE:  Which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at the next Bcon?  We'll keep this from David.  Sorta kinda honest...

LL:  Martha Lawrence.  I miss her.  Or James Crumley, but you need a stick to beat off all his fan boys.

I wish I'd had a chance to meet Martha Lawrence.  As for Crumley!  Oh, to sit and talk with the man Ray Bradbury named as a character in his trilogy (the detective 'Crumley') would be an incredible experience.  I think David would agree.

EE:  We hear (I get around more than one might think) that those photo shoots you did for Victoria's Secret were spectacular, but due to book commitments, you backed out and they're considering suing you for breach of contract.  Any chance you might renegotiate?

LL:  I think you got it wrong.  The contract was for Vittorio Segretto, an all-you-can-eat pizza place that I bankrupted.

No, no, dear heart - I NEVER get things wrong.  My sources are impeachable - but being that you're such a creative writer - I like what you've come up with - and we'll let it stand.  (Oh, that pool lounging ensemble looked just great on you.  Do you know if they're planning to sell it in plus sizes?)

EE:  Okay, Laura - here's a biggie that needs to be addressed.  A rampant rumor around Mysteryville is that you actually wrote Mystic River, and Dennis Lehane wrote To The Power of Three.  This dastardly rumor really needs to be put to rest!  Here's your chance to tell the world the real skinny.

LL:  Again, things have gotten horribly muddled.  Harlan Coben wrote all the Tess Monaghan novels; I wrote Tell No One, but missed the fine print that said I had to Tell No One.

Whew!  Finally!  The air is clear!  The gossip will cease!  The rumors are put to rest!  The royalty statements might be screwed up, but now...now the world knows the truth! 

EE:  Oh, hey - it was whispered in my ear (naturally) at Bcon/Chicago - that you love to pamper yourself with Doritos and Sangria every full moon.  Isn't that a bit tough on the waistline?  Or, is this some new beauty ritural that keeps that big, wide smile on your face?

LL:  Sangria, yes, but with homemade guacamole.  (I prefer the recipe in the Gourmet cookbook.)

Guacamole?  Aha! Of course!  Avocados are wonderful for the skin.  And if I remember correctly, only California avocados work best.  Those imports?  Phewey.  Buy American!

EE:  What about the latest buzz that Eva Longoria has been badgering you to buy that knock-out gown you wore to the Edgar's last year?  Terri Hatcher called me last night and told me, so we know it's the gospel truth.

LL:  Given that the gown was an ABS knock-off of someone else's previous awards ceremony gown, I'm pretty sure that Eva Longoria would have no use for it.

But, Laura! She doesn't have to know, does she?  I mean, I won't tell.  And it was stunning!  Of course, she won't do it justice, but do we really care?

EE:  Okay, while you think it over-and decide what you're gonna sock her for the gown, I have to let you in on another about-to-be-breaking-news-flash.  My spy in Vegas (no not that Elvis look-alike that stalked you at Bcon/2003-he's not working for me anymore. But that's another story) - tells me that you've instructed your publisher not to give into the threats from that mega rich casino owner who is claiming you wrote NO GOOD DEEDS in his  coffee shop. And - that he was so taken with you, he personally waited on you!  All the poor man wants - he claims - is to be acknowledged as your muse, but you won't even send him an autographed copy. 

LL:  I love you, Elaine, but you clearly have the worst sources in the world.  Who are you talking to, Jayson Blair and James Frey?

Uh, no - it was...well, I can't really say.  My lips are sealed.  I mean, I have to protect my sources.  Surely, as a former journalist - you understand that, right?  But he had gorgeous hair and the dreamiest blue eyes...and...and...well, nevermind.

EE:  Okay, last - but not least - how tough was it for you to turn down that weekly six figure salary from Hooters? 

LL:  Who said I turned it down?  I can carry those orange shorts.  Literally.  Wadded up, they fit in one hand.

Atta, girl! Hey-a couple of weeks can buy a lot of ink, paper and that new computer you've been eyeing.

Many thanks to you, Laura - for being On The Bubble - for being a great sport - and for being one hell of a great gal and friend.  They don't make many like you anymore.  But what the hell, right?  More fun for us that way.  Oh, and did I tell you about...oops. Sorry.  I forgot we're still live.  I'll call you.

NEXT SATURDAY - I'll be at ThrillerFest in Phoenix, I know you'll miss me - but don't despair - please come and visit with Kris Montee-one half of P.J. Parrish fame!  This is a very funny lady, and a very savvy writer who knows the book biz like few others!  Kris is on the road promoting her and her sister, Kelly Montee - new book - AN UNQUIET GRAVE.  This NYT best selling duo are quite something else!  I could talk to them for hours.  And I have.  With a few drinks, naturally.  If you're a 'writer-in-waiting', a new writer or an established writer - or simply a lover of mystery - tune in.

And maybe-just maybe- if you're all good children - I just might tell you about all the going's on at ThrillerFest when I return.  Well, maybe not everything...but we'll see.  I'm sure you'll be dying to know how well I hold my own on the panel I'll be on.  It's on Friday (11:00-11:45) and titled - WHAT IS A THRILLER? I mean, can you imagine me with Raymond Benson, David Dun, Bob Levinson, Jim Rollins and Sandy Balzo as our moderator?  Hells, bells - that's thrilling enough! Raymond and Jim have promised to hold my hand. I told them I was nervous. Clever, huh? Moi? Nervous?  But I promise to behave myself.  After all, when one is presenting the innagural annual award for Best First Novel, one must display a sense of dignity.  Right? And I can do that. Really, I can.  So, darlings, until then...

American Idol And The Art of Suspense

American Idol kept its millions of viewers on the edge of their chairs for two hours to tell them that Taylor Hicks had won this year’s competition.  Two hours!  Considering the decision was an either/or situation for the two finalists, taking two hours to say, “Yeah, that guy won,” was a master class in the art of suspense.  Bravo!

Well, not really.

American Idol was a master class in how not to keep your audience in suspense.  The show committed a cardinal sin by cheating the audience.  They stretched the show into two hours when it didn’t have to be two hours long.  Worse still, a viewer, like me, could circumvent the whole spectacle and switch on two minutes from the end to see the unveiling of the winner.  Can you say lost advertising revenue?

So how did American Idol break the rules of suspense?

I’m glad you asked.  I’ll tell you.

A ticking clock makes for good suspense (see the TV show, 24) and the faster it ticks the better, but American Idol slowed that ticking clock down.  They recapped information the audience already knew.  They replayed what everyone had already seen.  When you’re trying to create a climax, you don’t go for flashbacks that add nothing to the drama.

Suspense relies on a fast, slick narrative, so don’t bring back unnecessary characters to clog up that narrative.  Americans spent three months voting off a bunch people they didn’t think where good enough, so why bring them back to remind us why they were voted off in the first place?  The show was down to a head-to-head between the last two participants.  It was fight to the death time—a duel between the best of the best.  Not, jeez, that kid was really geeky looking.  How did he make it to the final twelve?

Good suspense is fueled by complication, not distraction.  When Jack Bauer is having a bad day at the office in 24, he has to juggle half a dozen crises at once, each one getting in the way of his ultimate objectives.  So what does American Idol do?  It brings on guest stars to sing songs and do duets.  They aren’t racking up the tension—they’re stealing the finalist’s thunder.

Suspense is supposed to put the reader or viewer on edge.  American Idol is a bad example of suspense because it dangled a carrot in front of the audience’s nose and kept pulling it away.  Instead of filling of the show with content that built to a climax, it recycled and padded out its time slot.  A suspense writer can never cheat their audience with these techniques and survive.  You might get away with it once, but not twice. 

American Idol does get a couple of things right.  They do have high stakes.  Only one person can win the jackpot recording contract and all the cash and prizes that go with it.  And they have a bloody good villain in the shape of Simon Cowell.  So it’s not all bad. 

If I were judging American Idol, I’d have to say, “Nah, nah, nah, dog, you know I’m a big fan, but that didn’t work for me.  I’ve seen more suspense at a wrestling bout.  You’re gonna have to try a lot of harder next time.  But you looked nice, A.I.”

Simon Wood

PS: I'll be San Francisco Mystery Bookstore on Saturday afternoon.  If you're in town, say hi—or better still, say hi and buy a book.  :-)

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

I think I've always wanted to be a writer. When I was in the third grade I wrote a story called "The Pencil Who Grew Up to be a Stub." Although the assignment was to write a one-page story with a pen, I wrote my 4-page story with a pencil...in first-person. The plot was very Stephen King-ish, all about a pencil menaced by a pencil sharpener. My teacher gave me a very low grade ("It was supposed to be in ink, Deni!") I was, of course, devastated.

But it didn't stop me. When I was 12, the Village Voice published one of my poems. I'll share it with you:

GRASS
Grass stinks,
It makes you sneeze;
I'd rather skin my knees
On pavement,
But it tastes good.

It was years before I understood why the Voice had published "Grass." I, of course, had meant a blade of grass.

In high school I wrote and illustrated a children's book called HERBERT THE GIANT, about a giant who lived in a town of nearsighted people. The townspeople didn't know he was a giant until, one day, a peddler came to town -- selling eyeglasses. I once said my books had no socially redeeming values whatsoever, but I forgot about HERBERT.

My sister Marianne has always wanted to be a writer. She's the subject of my Quibbles & Bits this week. It's called:

WALKING THE DOG

Once upon a fairly long time ago, my sister Marianne phoned and asked how I found the time to write my books, especially since I had 3 kids (like she did), no child support, and I worked days at a video store and nights waiting tables.

I said, "Here's what you do, Marianne. Every day you get up an hour before Eddie and the kids. Sit at your computer and write for that hour. Even if you finish one page, by the end of the year you'll have a book."

"But," she said, "I already get up an hour earlier than Eddie and the kids. I have to make breakfast and fix the kids' lunches."

"Okay, Marianne," I said. "When Eddie takes off for work and the kids leave for school, sit at your computer -- every day at the same time -- and work for an hour. Even if you only write one page, by the end of the year you'll have a book."

"After Eddie and the kids leave," she said, "I have to clean the house. You know how Eddie is if the house is dirty."

"Okay," I said, "after you clean the house, sit down at the computer and work for an---"

"After I clean the house, I have to change the sheets and do the laundry. Then I eat lunch."

"Okay, Marianne," I said, glancing at my clock. "After you do the laundry and eat lunch, sit down at your computer and work for an hour. If you produce even one page a day, by the end of the year you'll have a book."

"After I do the laundry and eat lunch," she said, "I have to walk the dog."

Walking the dog has become a catch-phrase in my family. If my daughter says she wants to join the local community theatre -- possibly audition for a role in a production of My Fair Lady -- but she
can't seem to find the time, I say, "Sandi, you're walking the dog."

Even Gordon has picked it up. When I procrastinate -- or even worse, justify the procrastination -- he says, "Deni, you're walking the (insert expletive) dog."

There's a PS to my tale. I told my "walking the dog" story at an RMFW Colorado Gold conference. The following year a woman came running up to me. I didn't recognize her. I hate it when that happens. As I searched for a name, a reference, anything, she said, "You don't know me."

I swallowed a sigh of relief.

"I was here last September," she continued. "I don't remember what I ate or what I wore or what so and-so said on her panel about conflict, but I remembered your walking-the-dog story." She paused. "And last year," she said, "I wrote a book."

Every time I tell THAT story, it's an effort not to bawl. Even writing it, I feel goosebumpy.

So if you remember nothing else from my weekly blogs, remember my walking-the-dog story. It's magic. And it works.

Over and out,
Deni

Reading for Pleasure & the Published Author

Pari Noskin Taichert

In last week's responses to my piece about how authors can support each other, L. Lee Lowell wrote, "Do I really need to laugh because that author used one adverb too many?"

That simple question sparked a question of my own: Do authors read each other's works differently once they've been published?

Me? I remember a time when I had no mercy. I reveled in snarky book reviews and grinned wide, my lips curving into a knowing sneer. Hell, I even wrote some myself. That was before my own literary efforts hit the bookstores.

Something happened to me as a reader when I signed my first publishing contract. Was my experience unique? Did other authors have similar reactions?

Change #1          More selective
I've noticed now that I only read a few paragraphs of someone's work before deciding whether to invest more time in the book -- or to put it aside. This might be because of my lack of free time, and generally fractured life, but I just want to be grabbed quickly by any book I read.

Apparently, I'm not alone in my new selectivity.

"I really do love to read, but am much more ready now to stop reading a book if I'm not enjoying it. There are too many good ones out there to spend time on one I'm not loving." Judy Clemens

"I don't know if it's being an author . . . or knowing more about the craft . . . but I'm a MUCH more discriminating reader now. I will simply put a book down if it hasn't engaged me by page 20 . . . " Libby Hellmann

"I find I'm much pickier about what I read and notice I 'edit' in my head phrases/descriptions I would cut that seem lengthy and unnecessary . . . " Louise Crawford

Change #2          More critical
I have to love the author's/protagonist's voice. That's the key for me. It's the thing that keeps me reading in spite of botched plots or insane premises.

Other authors have specific requirements as well.

" . . . I do read mysteries, and all books, differently as an author. I read the first 2 chapters then skip to the end 2 chapters. If there is a character at the end who has not been introduced by the end of the 2nd chapter, I don't bother reading the middle .  . . " Jill Amadio

" . . . it is in the dissection and resolution of plot that I have become most critical. Where once I would tolerate what I call 'magical' solutions, I have now become intolerant." Frank Wydra (no url)

Change # 3          More analytical
Almost every mystery I read nowadays becomes a textbook of dos and don'ts. My internal analyst won't shut up -- no matter how many times I tie gags around her mouth.

Several of my cohorts struggle with the same annoying tendency.

"I'm constantly analyzing the techniques, the style, the characterization. This makes me a little sad -- I can't get totally swept up in the story the way I used to . . ." Sandra Parshall

"It's harder to find books that I lose myself in instead of deconstructing . . . " J.T. Ellison

"I find myself mentally rephrasing a phrase, or questioning a word. I wish I could turn it off and just enjoy the story! Reading used to be much more fun. Is there a writer-rehab I can turn to?" Mary Ellen Hughes

Ah, grasshoppers, there is hope. Some authors are able to analyze without losing the joy of reading their peers.

" . . . when a fellow writer is able to give me deft characterization and evocative settings and even sharp social commentary, without dragging the pace to a screeching halt, I pause and admire a colleague who has mastered a demanding craft." Mary Anna Evans

"Now I see the soldering in the joints, so to speak. I can tell when a character is introduced for a specific purpose, and I can spot forecasting. For a while, that ruined my reading. Now, I just take it in stride and admire the effect when it's well done. I'm always trying to learn from the mistakes and successes of others." Charlaine Harris

Change # 4         Broader reading
In the three years since I signed that first publishing contract, I've met many wonderful authors. Because I like them so much, I've sought out their books and have read subgenres in crime fiction that I'd never known existed.

Again, I'm not alone.

" . . . I meet friendly, interesting people and I want to read what they're writing and more often than not, I go 'Wow. This is REALLY good stuff . . . " Jeff Shelby

" . . . I now count numerous mystery writers among my friends and warm acquaintances, which has led me to read a lot of books that I normally would not have picked up and read . . . And I've been pleasantly surprised at times." Robert Weibezahl

Before I ask all of you a question, I'd like to thank the other, hitherto unmentioned authors (and unpublished writers) who took the time to respond to my initial query. They were: Gene DeWeese, Sue Ann Jaffarian, Mike Manno, Chester Campbell, Sandy Jones, Ilene Schneider and Barry Gelt. I appreciate your willingness to share your perspectives with me.

Final Question for people reading this blog today:

1. Has your reading changed due to publication?
or
2. For those of you who consider yourselves mystery "fans," has your reading changed over the years as you've met more authors?

I'm truly curious to know.

Cheers.

Better Than A Tie

Jeffrey Cohen

Today is Father's Day, as determined by the U.S. Congress, the President of the United States and the Hallmark Greeting Card Company.  For weeks, my email inbox has been inundated with suggestion of what I might get for "Dad," (since apparently the Build-A-Bear Company, Barnes & Noble, The Popcorn Factory and I are siblings), any of which I wish I could do.  But Dad, that is, MY Dad, isn't around for me to give a gift.

I, it should be noted, am in Rome today (or that is, I intend to be in Italy on Father's Day, and am writing this in advance--in the interest of full disclosure), on a vacation with my family that we have been planning for years, literally.  So I doubt there will be much of a Father's Day celebration for us, as we'll be happy to celebrate the fact that we're in Rome.  That, surely, is enough.

To be honest, I've never much noted Father's Day since the first year I was eligible for such distinction.  I believe you should be nice to your parents every day, assuming they're holding up their end of the bargain by trying their best.  My mother, who is still around, deserves my respect and love on all days, whether I buy her a bizarre card or not.

When I was in college, I refused to send cards.  As an English major and aspiring writer (at the time of screenplays and journalism), I felt that paying for words to send to your loved ones was cheating, so I'd write something myself.  To a certain extent, I still believe that, and the fact that the stupid things often rhyme just makes it worse.  If I have to give my mother a message that rhymes, I'll give her the new Paul Simon album.  Odds are, it'll express my feelings more accurately than something that beings, "Dearest MOTHER..."

My father, when he was around, seemed somewhat embarrassed by Father's Day.  He never paid it much attention, either, and always put on a show about how surprised he was by whatever inadequate gift or idiotic "funny" card we'd gotten for him.  He wasn't much of an actor, and even when I was small, I could tell he was putting up with it because he thought it would make us happy.

And that was the essence of my dad--he'd do whatever he could to make his family happy.  Whether or not it made him feel good seemed beside the point: of course he was pleased, so long as the rest of us were pleased.  That's one of the many reasons I'll miss him every day for the rest of my life.

My children, who are roughly as enamored of Mother's Day and Father's Day as they are of Arbor Day or Guy Fawkes Day, need to be reminded that they should do something for one of their parents once a year just because.  It's not that they are bad citizens the other 364, of course.  Their mother and I don't really place much emphasis on the holidays designated for us, and there's no reason the kids would pick up on something we obviously don't consider essential.  On the contrary, they are becoming the kind of people we hoped they'd be, and that is enough of a full-time job.  Something from Amazon.com isn't necessary to underline it.

They are unique individuals, each of them.  On occasion, when a radio interviewer or (more troubling) someone I know asks whether they are in some way scarred psychically by having a father, and not a mother, who is the parent holding down the fort when they get home from school (and they don't phrase it like that, but it's what the questioner means), I have to shake my head in wonder.  My children don't think it's unusual to have Dad at home.  But they know that I'm working when I'm at home, too.  It has always been this way for them, and the idea that it is somehow strange is enough to make them bust out laughing.

My son, who enjoys being considerably larger than the rest of us, doesn't have a vicious bone in his (to us) enormous body.  He has a kind heart and a strong mind that asks lots of questions about things he finds fascinating and completely ignores everything else.  He has a neurological condition called Asperger Syndrome, a high-functioning form of autism, and would be mortified to find out that I just told you that.  He despises being treated "differently," doesn't like to tell anyone about his "disability," and thinks it odd that the rest of the world sees him as outside the norm.  He's right, of course, but he does need the occasional helping hand where others don't, and growls when it's offered because he hates needing it.  He is, and will be forever, a mensch.

My daughter, who loves animals and people, in that order, is an American Original in every way.  She has a quick, incisive mind and a wit that would be dangerous if she were the least bit mean.  But she's not, and so her comments can only be endearing.  She is also kindhearted, generous, and the best company of anyone I know.  I do not suffer fools gladly, I'm afraid, but I am never, ever bored when I'm talking to my daughter.

Neither of them has ever read one of my books.  When I started writing, I felt the kids were too young and now, they think they might see too much of themselves in some of the characters, and are uncomfortable with that.  It is perfect logic, and I understand.  My characters sometimes use people I know as jumping-off points, and that is true with my children.  But they are not the characters in my books.  It's a fine distinction, but an important one, and the kids would rather not have to think about it. They are intelligent people, and have made the right choice for themselves.

They are everything their grandfather would have hoped for them.  The other day, when my daughter made some remark I can't remember, I told her she was a wiseguy.  Not missing a beat, my 13-year-old turned to me and said, "I learned from the Master." 

And that's not a bad Father's Day gift, after all.